


Feels Like Christmas

by orphan_account



Series: Christmas 2015 Song Prompts [14]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Magic, Chicken Pox, Christmas, Christmas Prompts 2015, F/F, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just chicken pox. It's not like she actually needs to sit around and not do anything, right? It's Christmas, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** You Make It Feel Like Christmas  & Darling Flower
> 
> Aaya = Tiger Lily, changing the name to fit a modern AU. 
> 
> I had sooo much fun with this one, I hope you enjoy.

Chicken pox. That's what the doctors said. But doctors are dumb and there was no way Aaya was going to be sick over Christmas. And she's insisted that she  _wasn't_ sick. It was just a little itch, a little fever. She could still whoop her brother's ass in snowball fights, still go and visit the rest of her family on the reservation like she did every year. It would be fine. A teeny tiny set of blisters on her skin was not going to stop her from enjoying her favorite holiday.

But her father and her brother had packed up the car  _without her_ and dropped her off at Wendy's house because  _You're too sick to stay home alone and we can't trust you not to go out._

Aaya growls and slouches lower on the sofa. "Fucking patriarchy, am I right?"

"Yeah, they're the worst," Wendy mutters, only half concentrating as she wiggles a crochet hook through more yarn. "Take your medicine."

"God, you too?" Aaya grumbles and throws a baseball into the air. "C'mon, it's not even that bad. It's basically cosmetic. I had one dose of the vaccine so I don't even feel a thing."

"You say as you're scratching your shoulder," Wendy hums and removes Aaya's hand from her wrist. "Just take your medicine."

"I'm against antibiotics."

"It's ibuprofen."

"Still."

"Then drink the ginger ale I got you."

Aaya scoffs. "Are you having fun playing Mom, Wendy?"

Wendy rolls her eyes and examines the scarf she's crocheting. "Call it nostalgia. I used to play house all the time. Then Michael refused to be the baby."

"What a horror for you."

Wendy jams her elbow into Aaya's side and rolls her eyes. "Come on, Aaya. Don't be so... _persnickety._ It's Christmas."

"And I should be in Montana right now." She leans back and smiles thoughtfully. Wendy stops stitching to get a good look at it. Aaya's so beautiful when she hasn't made the executive decision to be a total snob. She continues: "I only get to go once a year and it's so much fun."

"There's always next year," Wendy offers optimistically, nervous grin flitting on her face and a slight caress in Aaya's shoulder. The sick girl might have blushed but that's probably fever.

"Yeah but Neske'e is never gonna let me live it down."

"I do know  _that_ feeling," Wendy says. "Grandmothers always cause a big to-do whenever their grandchildren go missing."

"I coulda gone." Aaya sighed petulantly. "It's not even that bad."

Wendy frowned and clasped a hand around Aaya's shoulder, ignoring the way her gut jumped, even with her friend's face marked with pox. "I know it isn't the same thing, But is there anything I can do to help you get in the holiday spirit? Cheer you up a little?"

"You could get off my case about taking medicine?"

"Funny." Wendy knits her arms over her chest.

Aaya sighs, over dramatically and threw up her baseball again. Catching Wendy's exasperation she catches the ball and lets it fall to the ground. "How was  _that_ too far?'

"I'm trying to be nice and you're just...doing the Aaya thing."

 _"The Aaya thing_?"

"It's only that…" Wendy huffs. "You complain  _a lot."_

"You're exaggerating."

"Am I? You're being awfully… _frosty."_

"Pun intended?"

" _Aaya."_

"Oh come on. It was funny. You know it."

Silence was the worst thing when it came to Wendy. Two years of friendship had taught Aaya that much. And when Wendy rose to her feet, Aaya figured she was about to get kicked to the proverbial doghouse.

(Of course, that analogy only fits if Aaya and Wendy are  _dating_ and of course they aren't. That's absolutely ridiculous. Like Aaya and Wendy could ever date. That's absurd. Aaya wouldn't even want to. Ever. Like that'd be a thing that would happen. Aaya needs another ibuprofen; her fever's started up again)

" _Wendy,"_ She calls out, holding out her hand to her friend in an appeal for forgiveness. "Thank you for letting me stay at your place."

It's so easy to see white girls blush and Wendy looks the same color as the garland wound up the stairs. It's cute.

Not that Aaya would admit that.

She shrugs prettily. Everything about Wendy's pretty. It's infuriating. "Figured it was better than your alternative."

"Christmas with Rufio. Could you imagine?"

"I do think you two whinge in equal amounts."

"I don't  _whinge_." Aaya tosses a throw pillow at her friend.

Wendy throws it right back. "You're sick so I'll let you win."

"That's insulting!"

They toss the throw pillows between the two of them, ruffling up each other's hair, whacking at one another with laughter ringing through the air. Aaya's hands catch Wendy's wrist and before they realize what's happening, Wendy swings her leg up over Aaya and now they've got their hands intertwined as they push and pull against each other against the arm of the couch.

For half a moment, they go entirely still. Aaya can feel everything around her, the upholstery on the couch, the curve in Wendy's calf as it drags up the outside of her thigh. The insatiable itch breaking out all over her skin. Wendy's hand flies up, away from her own fingers and up to her face. Aaya swears the clock stops ticking.

"You're burning up," Wendy whispers, breathy and light and too, too pretty. She pauses, take a moment to think and then -  _no, no, no -_ pulls away. "Take your medicine."


End file.
